met my first one yesterday."
"And?"
"Hard to read. Didn't even seem to be aware of his surroundings sometimes, he seemed to be... off in his own little world."
"He's aware all right. Those things are so fast it's scary. You know they can hold both aspects of a Necker cube in their heads at the same time?"
The term rang a bell. I subtitled, and saw the thumbnail of a familiar wireframe box:
Now I remembered: classic ambiguous illusion. Sometimes the shaded panel seemed to be in front, sometimes behind. The perspective flipped back and forth as you watched.
"You or I, we can only see it one way or the other," Pag was saying. "Vamps see it both ways at once . Do you have any idea what kind of an edge that gives 'em?"
"Not enough of one."
" Touché . But hey, not their fault neutral traits get fixed in small populations."
"I don't know if I'd call the Crucifix glitch neutral ."
"It was at first. How many intersecting right angles do you see in nature?" He waved one dismissive hand. "Anyway, that's not the point. The point is they can do something that's neurologically impossible for us Humans. They can hold simultaneous multiple worldviews , Pod-man. They just see things we have to work out step-by-step, they don't have to think about it. You know, there isn't a single baseline human who could just tell you, just off the top of their heads, every prime number between one and a billion? In the old days, only a few autistics could do shit like that."
"He never uses the past tense," I murmered.
"Huh? Oh, that." Pag nodded. "They never experience the past tense. It's just another thread to them. They don't remember stuff, they relive it."
"What, like a post-traumatic flashback?"
"Not so traumatic." He grimaced. "Not for them , at least."
"So this is obviously your current hot spot? Vampires?"
"Pod, vampires are the capital-Hot spot for anyone with a 'neuro' in their c.v. I'm just doing a couple of histology papers. Pattern-matching receptors, Mexican-hat arrays, reward/irrelevance filters. The eyes, basically."
"Right." I hesitated. "Those kind of throw you."
"No shit ." Pag nodded knowingly. "That tap lucidum of theirs, that shine . Scary." He shook his head, impressed all over again at the recollection.
"You've never met one," I surmised.
"What, in the flesh? I'd give my left ball. Why?"
"It's not the shine. It's the—" I groped for a word that fit— "The attitude , maybe."
"Yeah," he said after a bit. "I guess sometimes you've just gotta be there, huh? Which is why I envy you, Pod-man."
"You shouldn't."
"I should. Even if you never meet whoever sent the 'Flies, you're in for one Christly research opportunity with that—Sarasti, is it?"
"Wasted on me. The only neuro in my file's under medical history."
He laughed. "Anyway, like I said, I just saw your name in the headlines and I figured, hey, the man's leaving in a couple of months, I should probably stop waiting around for him to call."
It had been over two years. "I didn't think I'd get through. I thought you'd shitlisted me."
"Nah. Never." He looked down, though, and fell silent.
"But you should have called her," he said at last.
"I know."
"She was dying . You should've—"
"There wasn't time."
He let the lie sit there for a while.
"Anyway," he said at last. "I just wanted to wish you luck." Which wasn't exactly true either.
"Thanks. I appreciate that."
"Kick their alien asses. If aliens have asses."
"There's five of us, Pag. Nine if you count the backups. We're not exactly an army."
"Just an expression, fellow mammal. Bury the hatchet. Damn the torpedoes. Soothe the serpent."
Raise the white flag , I thought.
"I guess you're busy," he said, "I'll—"
"Look, you want to get together? In airspace? I haven't been to QuBit's in a while."
"Love to, Pod. Unfortunately I'm in Mankoya. Splice'n'dice workshop."
"What, you mean physically ?"
"Cutting-edge research. Old-school habits."
"Too bad."
"Anyway, I'll let you go. Just
"And?"
"Hard to read. Didn't even seem to be aware of his surroundings sometimes, he seemed to be... off in his own little world."
"He's aware all right. Those things are so fast it's scary. You know they can hold both aspects of a Necker cube in their heads at the same time?"
The term rang a bell. I subtitled, and saw the thumbnail of a familiar wireframe box:
Now I remembered: classic ambiguous illusion. Sometimes the shaded panel seemed to be in front, sometimes behind. The perspective flipped back and forth as you watched.
"You or I, we can only see it one way or the other," Pag was saying. "Vamps see it both ways at once . Do you have any idea what kind of an edge that gives 'em?"
"Not enough of one."
" Touché . But hey, not their fault neutral traits get fixed in small populations."
"I don't know if I'd call the Crucifix glitch neutral ."
"It was at first. How many intersecting right angles do you see in nature?" He waved one dismissive hand. "Anyway, that's not the point. The point is they can do something that's neurologically impossible for us Humans. They can hold simultaneous multiple worldviews , Pod-man. They just see things we have to work out step-by-step, they don't have to think about it. You know, there isn't a single baseline human who could just tell you, just off the top of their heads, every prime number between one and a billion? In the old days, only a few autistics could do shit like that."
"He never uses the past tense," I murmered.
"Huh? Oh, that." Pag nodded. "They never experience the past tense. It's just another thread to them. They don't remember stuff, they relive it."
"What, like a post-traumatic flashback?"
"Not so traumatic." He grimaced. "Not for them , at least."
"So this is obviously your current hot spot? Vampires?"
"Pod, vampires are the capital-Hot spot for anyone with a 'neuro' in their c.v. I'm just doing a couple of histology papers. Pattern-matching receptors, Mexican-hat arrays, reward/irrelevance filters. The eyes, basically."
"Right." I hesitated. "Those kind of throw you."
"No shit ." Pag nodded knowingly. "That tap lucidum of theirs, that shine . Scary." He shook his head, impressed all over again at the recollection.
"You've never met one," I surmised.
"What, in the flesh? I'd give my left ball. Why?"
"It's not the shine. It's the—" I groped for a word that fit— "The attitude , maybe."
"Yeah," he said after a bit. "I guess sometimes you've just gotta be there, huh? Which is why I envy you, Pod-man."
"You shouldn't."
"I should. Even if you never meet whoever sent the 'Flies, you're in for one Christly research opportunity with that—Sarasti, is it?"
"Wasted on me. The only neuro in my file's under medical history."
He laughed. "Anyway, like I said, I just saw your name in the headlines and I figured, hey, the man's leaving in a couple of months, I should probably stop waiting around for him to call."
It had been over two years. "I didn't think I'd get through. I thought you'd shitlisted me."
"Nah. Never." He looked down, though, and fell silent.
"But you should have called her," he said at last.
"I know."
"She was dying . You should've—"
"There wasn't time."
He let the lie sit there for a while.
"Anyway," he said at last. "I just wanted to wish you luck." Which wasn't exactly true either.
"Thanks. I appreciate that."
"Kick their alien asses. If aliens have asses."
"There's five of us, Pag. Nine if you count the backups. We're not exactly an army."
"Just an expression, fellow mammal. Bury the hatchet. Damn the torpedoes. Soothe the serpent."
Raise the white flag , I thought.
"I guess you're busy," he said, "I'll—"
"Look, you want to get together? In airspace? I haven't been to QuBit's in a while."
"Love to, Pod. Unfortunately I'm in Mankoya. Splice'n'dice workshop."
"What, you mean physically ?"
"Cutting-edge research. Old-school habits."
"Too bad."
"Anyway, I'll let you go. Just
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